


Miles to go before I sleep

by Dissenter



Series: Cry havoc [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Daniela di Vongola was a bamf, Fascists, Guerilla Warfare, Historical, Resistance activities, Spies & Secret Agents, Women Being Awesome, World War II, clandestine meetings, wartime Vongola
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11559852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissenter/pseuds/Dissenter
Summary: Daniela di Vongola is tired, but she'll keep fighting anyway. There's no other way forward.





	Miles to go before I sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Night-Mare (Aoife)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/gifts).



> Yep this is that fic, that I said I might write. It's entirely Aoife's fault. It didn't come out quite as planned, but I'm fairly happy with it anyway.

Daniela was tired, bone tired, heart tired, but there was no time to stop and rest. There was too much resting on her shoulders. If she were anything less than what she was, a Sky, a Vongola, she would have collapsed days ago. But she was a Vongola Sky, she was _the_ Vongola Sky. The last one standing with her father dead and it would take more than simple exhaustion to put her down. That was after all the greatest strength of her kind, not the blazing bright flames that called her followers to her side, not the intuition that warned her when and where a safehouse would be raided, an informant captured. It was this, sheer force of will, willpower that outstripped the limits of the body, that let her push beyond fear, and doubt, and grief.

There was a secret most people would know, if they were given time to think about it. Anyone could access dying will mode, anyone could access hyper dying will mode, so long as they were pushed far enough, so long as they were _desperate_ enough. She was at war, she’d seen more men and women pushed to that edge than she cared to think about. What made her bloodline different wasn’t that they could fight beyond the limits of their own endurance, it was that they could survive doing so. That they could do it over and over again, and recover each time, that they could hold themselves in that state for as long as they needed to, for as long as a threat lasted. That was what made her family so terrifying.

She’d been riding that edge for over a week. A week spent in hyper dying will mode, it was something even a Vongola Sky could not take lightly. She would pay later for pushing herself so far, and the price would be heavy. She pulled on her guardians’ flames to help her, one perk of being a Sky, Lightning to stiffen her spine and keep her moving, Cloud to drag out out what strength she had left, Mist to hide the shadows under her eyes. It wasn’t healthy, but war rarely was, and there was too much to be done for her to collapse now. Later, later, she could rest, could recover, could try and gather strength for the next challenge, but for now she couldn’t stop, couldn’t afford to stop.

She was travelling alone, alone and disguised, because a poor woman alone is not a threat, bears less watching than the hardened men that follow her. She was of course, no less hardened than they, but assumptions and appearences had their uses, and to those that didn’t _know,_ couldn’t feel the heat of her Sky blazing behind her eyes, had never been taught the weight of the history carried by her name, it was all too easy to think her weak. Because she was a woman, because she was young, because she wasn’t obviously armed. It was useful sometimes, being underestimated.

She was travelling to meet a man, not a friend, but an ally perhaps, at least while they shared a common enemy. She didn’t trust him of course, these days she trusted only her own, bound to her heart, and soul, and flame, but no war was ever won by avoiding risk. He was a spy, of course he was a spy, all of them were in one way or another, this was a dirty war, a shadow war, and those that survived it learned early on to listen for secrets. But this man was a foreign spy. She couldn’t quite place his accent, but that was common enough for those in his line of work, they worked hard to be difficult to trace. He wouldn’t say who his masters were, not yet, only that they had an interest in undermining her enemy, and that she might have information he could use. That too was common enough in his line of work, part of why spies were so hard to trust.

But then that was why she’d come in person at least in part. If you couldn’t trust, you had to verify, and there were few men living that could lie to an active Sky. She let herself into the safehouse where they agreed to meet, cautiously but without visible hesitation. She’d learned even before the war that showing fear was a weakness a mafia boss couldn’t afford.

Her contact was already there, waiting in the dark. Intimidation games, if she couldn’t sense his nervousness she might have been put off balance by it. But her intuition told her he was as unsure as she was about this meeting, and that strengthened her confidence. What she hadn’t been expecting was the other thing her Sky flames told her. The man was a newly active Rain.

It was a surprise. Not that he was a Rain, it was common enough in spies, surprisingly even more common than mists. Mists were good at deception, but bad at not drawing attention, drama queens that they were. She thought fondly of her own Mist and his love of amateur theatrics. Maybe when the war was over she could build him a theatre. Mists were good liars but Rains made better spies, they were good at being unobtrusive, at going unnoticed. No she wasn’t surprised the man was a Rain. She was surprised that he was active, because there had been nothing to suggest in any of his communications that he even knew flames existed.

Then again, these were times of war, _anyone_ could be pushed to the point of going active, even if they didn’t have the mafia heritage that made it easier. She wondered idly if the man had even noticed yet. Still it wasn’t her concern. He’d be sensible and keep his mouth shut, or the Vindice would deal with him, either way, it made no difference to her. What mattered to her was the information he carried, the possibility of an alliance, the weapons he hinted he could get to her. She had no time to get distracted, no matter how interesting his flames were.

…

He introduced himself as Sparrow, an obvious alias, but then, he wasn’t the only one using one. She didn’t need his name, just the measure of his character. He was cautious, but friendly enough in the way of Rains, all easy smiles and reserved judgement, until he decided which way to jump. She could tell he was sincere in his offer and the talks were going well. That is until the blackshirts kicked down the door.

It was lucky that her intuition had been strong enough to warn her in time. They were out the back door and away, before the blackshirts got inside, but it was close. Far too close. Sparrow evidently agreed, and if she hadn’t just saved them both by getting them out she knew he would have suspected her of betraying him. As it was he just looked grim as they made their escape, he knew all too well what awaited them if they were caught.

It took longer than it should have to throw their pursuit, and Daniela knew that was at least in part due to her own exhaustion. Sparrow himself wasn’t exactly on top form, he was obviously a city boy, uncomfortable in the wilderness and it showed, and Daniela was drawing more from her Mist than she should, just to keep him from leaving tracks.

He was uncomfortable in the wilderness but he was useful in a fight, and that made it worth dragging him with her. Twice they were cornered, and twice they fought their way out, he must have been a very new Rain, because he wasn’t using his flame to augment his attacks at all. She wondered if she should teach him some tricks to help them along.

He’d seen her use her own flames, there was no avoiding it. She could fight without them, but not when she was as exhausted as this, not when they were the only things keeping her standing. He’d seen orange fire that flickered blue at the edges and she could see the curiosity burning in him. To his credit he didn’t ask until they were clear of their pursuers. Sheltering in a cave in the mountains, with nothing to do and nowhere to go until the storm settled.

“That fire you used…” He said, with a question in his eyes, and he’d earned enough of her respect over the last week, that she had to answer.

“Sky Flames.” She said softly. “There are seven kinds of flames that sleep in people’s souls, that only make themselves known in moments of true need. They’re colour coded, if you were wondering, each type does different things. Orange is Sky Flames, they bring all the others together.”

“What about blue?” He didn’t even try to be subtle she found she rather liked that.

“Rain. Tranquility. In practical terms you can send your opponents to sleep if you need to.”

“How did you?” She snorted.

“I’m a Sky, I can tell. Besides you weren’t exactly subtle.” He gave a wry smile at that.

“Fair point. So if you’re Sky, why was there blue in your flames as well.”

“I have a Rain secondary. Sometimes people have more than one flame type, sometimes the mixes even have their own names. Sky with Storm is usually called a Wrath Sky for example.” He was quick to ask.

“And Sky with Rain?” She leaned back against the wall before she spoke, too tired for this conversation, but not willing to end it.

“One of my tutors once called it a Sky of sorrows. Said I was a Sky that would weep. My father fired him of course. You can’t go around saying things like that to a mafia heiress, but still, I’m not sure it was the right choice. After all, it seems like he was right in the end, I’ve faced too much grief, these last few years. He was a Mist with Giglio Nero blood, and they always see more than they should, maybe he could have seen this coming.”

After that they were quiet for a long time.

…

The storm raged on, and she wondered how her own Storm Constanza was doing, far away doing her bidding. She hoped she was safe, she didn’t know where she would be without Constanza’s fierceness at her back. She wondered about her Storm, and her Mist, and her Lightning, and her Cloud. And she wondered about the Rain sitting across from her and was startled at how  close he was in her thoughts. He’d dragged out more information than she really should have given him, about Flames, and what they meant to the Mafia, and she knew at least part of the reason she’d let him, was because she wanted him for her own.

She could tell that a part of him wanted to be hers, it was written clear to see in his flames, even before she explained what it meant, what he wa feeling, his soul knew what he wanted. But they were fighting a war, what he wanted and what he would do weren’t necessarily the same. He had other loyalties, and she wouldn’t ask him to choose. She didn’t know what he’d be risking or sacrificing, by making that choice. She’d told him enough that he knew what to ask for, she wouldn’t push. It would be up to him to make the offer or not. He was thinking about it, she knew, she thought he would probably decide soon.

…

When he did, it was as sudden as a summer shower. Seemingly out of the blue, but she knew he’d thought carefully. He offered her his flames with an honest smile and half a chocolate bar, and it had been the work of a moment to weave them together. Neither of them said a word as he broke the chocolate in two and passed her the larger half, but they shuffled over so they could lean against each other while they ate it. He kept watch as she finally allowed herself to sleep, safe in the presence of her newest guardian.

**Author's Note:**

> Note that by the end of this fic, Daniela has been awake and functioning for two weeks solid in HDW mode. She's been using her guardian's flames to help keep herself functioning but its very much a live now pay later trick. She's going to be asleep for a while. And given that she doesn't have a sun yet, it will take her a while to recover.  
> I'm assuming her father was killed in the early crackdowns on organised crime that the fascist regime in Italy undertook, and she was left alone because she was a woman and they underestimated her. They'll regret that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [All's Fair in Love and War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12745449) by [Dissenter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissenter/pseuds/Dissenter), [Night-Mare (Aoife)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare)




End file.
